The Lamb

It feels like mud
Whatever I’m trudging through,
It grabs hold of my feet
And I must confiscate them with every step
As I continue along my path.

Forest around me and sky above me
But I cannot stop to look,
I must trudge on and on and on
With this garment in my hand
Once a bright white
Now tarnished
by soot
and ash
and sin
So I must carry it until the end
So it might be clean.

Step after step after step
And I finally see it
What I have been marching for,
A tree
And on that tree is a lamb, nailed,
Gushing blood and water from its side
But it's not in pain
Or crying out
It is waiting.

As I approach I feel my eyes betray me
And tears stream down my cheeks
And I fall to my knees
I raise the cloth as I myself fall
And the blood catches it.
I feel it soak in it
And disappear from my hands
So I look up
And I see him.

There are no words.

He places the garment
Glistening once again
Upon me
And I collapse on his chest.
Not a moment passes and his arms are around me
Holding me
Protecting me
Consoling me.